


therapy

by rootedinsunlight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Mentor Minerva McGonagall, POV Minerva McGonagall, Protective Minerva McGonagall, Therapy, goes to therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:08:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29305506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rootedinsunlight/pseuds/rootedinsunlight
Summary: somewhat of an alternate universe where hogwarts has a therapist, and mcgonagall fills in for him from time to time. and so we see a collection of one-shots where some of our favorite characters try to open up, and as mcgonagall tries to help.this might change, but you can at the very least expect: wolfstar, jily, romione, harry, pavender/lavpavthis is all meant to be funny and a bit of a joke, it was inspired by a tumblr post. but i'm a sucker for angst, so i may write sad chapters. i'll always say at the beginning of the chapter!
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 9
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sets up the situation!

McGonagall hated many things about Hogwarts. Make no mistake, she found it to be a place of net sum positive—very much positive. But there were some parts of her job she detested even after all these years, and one in particular. If you asked Filius Flitwick or Poppy Pomfrey or Pomona Sprout, they might have said it was the hooligans that seem to recycle through the generations, the Prewetts, the Marauders, the Weasley twins—the ones who raced through the hallways as if time was slipping through their fingers like sand, the firecracker-poppers and prank-players and chaos-pursuers. But Filius and Poppy and Pomona would be wrong, McGonagall thought to herself as she settled into the familiar leather-backed chair and stared down grimly at the sheet of papers on the desk in front of her. In fact, as much as McGonagall groaned about those troublemakers, as many detentions as she carried out, she privately thought they made her job much more exciting. And what was the point of magic if it wasn’t exciting? 

The thing she hated most was when Castor Consilium was out sick. 

Castor, with his slicked back hair and slippery demeanor, was not her favorite person. But he did her least favorite job in this Merlin-forsaken school: he dealt with the students’ _emotions._

Hiring a therapist had been, bizarrely enough, Aberforth’s idea. Albus hadn’t told them this directly, of course, never quite able to credit his brother’s brilliance after all this time. But McGonagall had gone for a drink with Pomona at the Hog’s Head and after a few drinks, Aberforth had let the truth slip. 

“That idiot was going on about how even though it may not look like it, he really cared about the students’ mental health as much as he cared about using them for whatever big cause he cared about. So I told him to prove it, get a counselor or therapist!” 

Castor Consilium had only a degree from a Muggle university, which had caused quite the uproar among some Hogwarts parents in 1970. McGonagall herself had no bias against Muggle education (and in fact had watched their classroom technology improve rapidly through the years with a sort of wistful jealousy and stifled anger towards the quills in her own classroom). But if all Muggle degrees were like Castor’s, she really wondered how they got on functionally at all. Castor was good at offering toothy smiles and nodding along placatingly to anything you said, but McGonagall had seen no indication that he had an ounce of intelligence—emotional or otherwise. Once, when she happened to be alone in the break room with him, she had hesitatingly tried to share a concern she had about a student who seemed to be perpetually tired. He was pouring tea into a cup with a lazy wand pointed at the kettle, his nose in a book. When she tried to explain, he smirked before telling her she might want to ask the student to get a good night’s rest. She glared angrily at his cartoonish face before realizing there was no point. He was simply incapable of more, and as there were no other wizards interested in the position, they were stuck with him. That is, except for when he took off, which he did far too frequently for McGonagall’s liking. She was all for fair workweeks and prioritizing rest, but did she really have to fill in for him every time? Who decided that? 

So she looked down at the schedule of appointments for the day and the notes from previous sessions with a familiar sense of impending doom. It wasn’t helped by the fact that the “schedule” was basically just a loose list of bullet pointed names of students that Castor expected might come in. Half of them never showed up, but their absence was made up for by the walk-ins, from crying students who came in solos to fuming couples to groups that were clearly there just to see what McGonagall was like in such an.. _emotional_ role. And even though McGonagall felt sure that she must be better at this than she had been the first time, when she had stared blankly at the crying third-year in front of her and stammered out an incoherent string of words that she hoped would fashion itself into an acceptable piece of advice, the sheer amount of _talking_ , the awkward stretches of silence punctuated by sniffles, the couples after couples who asked her to solve their problem..she still felt intimidated as she thought of the day ahead. 

McGonagall loved rules. She thrived on them. But on those days that she was the school therapist, she slid the small flask out of a fold in her cloak and put a dash of whiskey into her tea. She would need it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading !!! SO SO MUCH.
> 
> I would LOVE love love feedback. And any kind of requests are always appreciated :)
> 
> Castor Consilium is of course an original character, I won't really be talking about him more after this. Consilium means counseling in Latin.
> 
> Also.. I don't like Dumbledore at all, or Snape, so sorry not sorry if there's bits of that weaved through here!
> 
> A line that broke my heart a bit while I wrote it: "the Prewetts, the Marauders, the Weasley twins—the ones who raced through the hallways as if time was slipping through their fingers like sand..". You know, because all three of them really did run out of time in different ways? :(


	2. james potter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> james potter thinks he knows what a therapist does. he doesn't, but mcgonagall helps him anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO. I know that in my first draft, the first chapter ended with Remus and Sirius coming in. I actually went back and changed that, because I wanted to write about James first! So this is James Potter with substitute-therapist McGonagall.

McGonagall glared at the photograph of Castor grinning merrily from the top of his desk, a Siamese cat in his arms. How dare he smile so big, when he had the nerve to take leave so often, and leave her behind this huge table once again? She settled into her chair and smoothed her robe down. There was a giant stack of fifth-year Transfiguration essays to mark in front of her. Peter Pettigrew’s name peered at her from the top of it, his small, rounded letters more appealing to the eye than the answer he had given to the prompt. She scrawled on the paper in red ink and moved to the next one, feeling her eyes grow heavy as the hours passed. She must have just started to doze off when the door banged open, startling her. She jerked her head back to see James Potter come in, looking more hesitant than she had ever seen him. Still, she saw the door shut behind him with a dent left in the wall behind and smiled a little at the fact that he still caused a scene in every room he walked into. A dramatic, big-hearted, mischievous boy whom she had gotten the privilege to watch grow up. _He must be, what, fifteen now?_ , she thought. And every bit of the charm and bravado she had seen in him at eleven, tempered by kindness and a strong sense of loyalty. Him and his band of friends—the Marauders, she had heard them call themselves—were all as thick as thieves, and as mischievous too. 

James ducked his head a little when he saw McGonagall looking at him, his cheeks pinking. Then he glanced up at her, wringing his hands. It was a little amusing to see him so nervous. 

“Yes, Mr. Potter?” she asked briskly. 

“I um..I had a question.”

McGonagall sighed. “And I, apparently, have answers. Sit down, Mr. Potter.” 

He brightened a little at this and bounded over to the empty chair, sinking into it with his legs sprawled wide apart. Pulling on the knot of his tie, he looked around the room. It was warm, well-furnished, and featured many pictures of the aforementioned Siamese cat. 

“That’s not a friend of yours, is it?” James quipped, pointing at a picture of the animal in a bowtie. She suppressed a smile. 

“Oh, so close he’s almost a brother,” she retorted dryly. He cracked a smile, the expression splitting his face. Then his gaze fell on the nametag on the desk (which said “Castor Consilium, School Counselor”) and he suddenly seemed to remember where he was and what he needed to ask. He grew somber and started studying a pen on the table with great interest. McGonagall watched him for a second, and then opened the lid on the biscuit tin on the desk and gestured towards it. 

“Thanks, Professor!” James smiled, grabbing a biscuit. McGonagall helped herself to one too, and they chewed in silence for a while. 

“Well, Mr. Potter? How can I help you?” 

James bit his lip and ran a hand through his hair, leaving it untidier than it had been to begin with. 

“Well, you’re a counselor, or a therapist or whatever, right? I mean, not you, but that’s what this is? You help people with their problems?” 

McGonagall pushed her glasses up on her nose, suddenly nervous. 

“Yes, that’s one way to look at it. Now I have no professional counseling experience, but apparently the Headmaster thinks that I have a way with the students, or something ridiculous like that, and so I’ve gotten roped into substituting for this position for almost as long as I’ve been here!” She pursed her lips and softened at James’s wide-eyed expression. “But yes, I would, er, love to try to help with anything I can.” 

She tried to look more competent than she must have come off during her outburst. James seemed appeased enough. 

“Well, I’m having some trouble. I’m, er…” he faltered, and then visibly straightened, his chest puffing out a little, “well, Professor, I’m in love.” 

McGonagall hid a smile. It was obvious to anyone with two eyes and this doe-eyed young man in their class. He basically lit up when Lily Evans spoke. “Terrible business, love. But good for you.” 

“Yeah, it’s good, it’s great, but just one thing.” James took a deep breath, as if for dramatic effect. “ _She doesn’t love me back.”_

McGonagall felt a conflicting mix of amusement and confusion. On one hand, it was almost funny to see James, who was so disarming to everyone he met, be so ruffled by this situation. On another, she was almost certain this was _not_ part of her job description. She set the essays aside, giving James a stern look when the boy tried to get a side-eyed look at the marks, and pulled out the thick handbook. She rifled through the tabs on the side. _Depression, Insomnia, Insecurities, Relationship Issues._ The latter was the closest to what James was describing, so she tried flipping to that page. James leaned in too. McGonagall scanned the pages and groaned in frustration. This was all about relationships that already _existed._ James seemed to notice the same thing, but looked up at her eagerly, as if trying to convince her not to kick him out of the room. 

“Professor, I’m sure you can help me in some way. It’s just that, I tried doing the tips in Wizard Weekly. I tried spraying cologne on the back of my neck and asking her for a quill even when I had one. I tried listening to Sirius, who told me to dress more like some Muggle rockstar, David Bowie, and to avoid talking to her at all, to get her interested. Moony doesn’t care about girls, and thinks I shouldn’t either, and Peter says I need to give it time. But I’ve been waiting! For years! And..and what if she never likes me back?” James finished quietly, his face downcast. McGonagall felt a pang of sympathy. Young love was never easy. 

But she thought it might not all be hopeless, and she didn’t think that often about students. Because Lily Evans, as wonderful and headstrong and independent as she was, did seem to smile a little bigger when James came in, and bloom a little when he challenged her opinion in a class discussion. As rowdy as James was, he was also smart, and in that way they were a good match in the classroom. Cologne on the back of the neck and totally ignoring her, though? McGonagall didn’t know what girls in 1974 liked, but when she was fifteen, that wasn’t it. 

“Mr. Potter,” McGonagall started, and then stopped. “ _James,_ I think Mr. Pettigrew may be the most correct of all your friends. I know that’s not the answer you want to hear, and you don’t want to wait, but—” 

James looked startled and interrupted her quickly: “No, no, don’t get me wrong! I want to wait. I _will_ wait, because I know I love her. I’m willing to wait as long as I need to. I just don’t know if I...if I’m waiting for something that will never come, or how to be... _sure._ ” 

McGonagall gave a wistful smile. 

“Ah, and there’s the eternal question, isn’t it? How to be _sure._ ” She was lost in thought for a second, thinking of _her_ young love, her young loss. James cleared his throat and smiled at her kindly, bringing her out of her trance. ‘Well. There’s no way to be _sure._ ”

James looked disappointed. She pressed on.

“But is it worth it?” she asked softly. He furrowed his brows. 

“Is what worth it?”

“The waiting. I don’t mean is it worth it _because_ you can be sure she’ll love you. I mean is it worth it, just on its own?” 

James stared at her for a long moment, and she felt herself squirm a little. It was strange to have one of your most troublemaking students making _you_ squirm. Then he let out a loud, surprised laugh. 

“Professor! When did you become so wise about love? Someone special in your life, huh? Is it Filch?” he grinned cheekily, dimpling. She rolled her eyes, and he softened suddenly. He grabbed another biscuit and stood, looking at her steadily. 

“Yes. It’s worth it,” James said, his voice tinged with pride.

McGonagall felt a rush of affection towards the boy in front of her—or rather, the _young man_ _._ So full of love and light and so ready to share it with everyone he met. He had so easily changed Hogwarts as she knew it. One day he would make a wonderful wizard and change the world. She was sure of _that_.

James Potter strode towards the door, turning back at the last minute like he had suddenly remembered something. 

“And Professor, I think Filch is worth the wait too!” He gave her that face-splitting smile again, and she found herself laughing a little despite herself, even as she tried to look at him sternly. 

“See you tomorrow, Mr. Potter. And not too much cologne on your neck, I’d like to retain my sense of smell after our classes.” 

James winked and nodded, and banged the door shut behind him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so so so much for reading <3 any suggestions, requests, comments are all so appreciated :)


	3. sirius black and remus lupin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sirius black and remus lupin are fighting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- this isn’t particularly funny, it’s a bit sad I guess? but not too bad  
> \- wolfstar  
> \- post *the prank* if you want it to be.. but it could be after some other fight if you don’t want it to be!  
> \- if you haven't read "all the young dudes" by mskingbean89: in that fic, walpurga black uses occlumency on young sirius to pry into his thoughts. just to keep in mind as to why he'd be sensitive to that.

Remus Lupin stared stonily at the window, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He bounced his knee as he waited. McGonagall rubbed her cheek wearily, watching him. Professor Flitwick had set this appointment up, insisting that the hostility between two of the self-proclaimed “Marauders” was causing havoc in his classroom. Remus had apparently sent a flock of birds after Sirius’s face during class the other day and refused to call them off. Professor Sprout and Trelawney had both expressed concerns, too. She checked the time once, twice, and was almost ready to kick Mr. Lupin out when the door clanged open and Sirius Black strolled in, his dark eyebrows furrowed worriedly and tie loose. McGonagall opened her mouth, but Sirius seemed not to notice her. He sank into the chair next to Remus and put a hand on the other boy’s shoulder gently. Remus shook it off and turned to fiercely glare at Sirius before turning his attention back to the view outside. Sirius looked as if he had been mortally wounded. He spread his slender hands in front of him.

“Come _on,_ Moony. Just talk to me.” Sirius whispered. “No need to involve..others in it.” 

McGonagall ignored the side-eye he cast her and cleared her throat instead.

“Alright. Now that we’re here, after wasting a sufficient amount of my time, Mr. Black”—he dimpled apologetically at her at this—“What seems to be the problem?”

Sirius grew sober. He stared down into his lap, and then at Remus. Remus studiously ignored him. A few moments of silence passed, during which McGonagall felt her irritation build. 

“Somebody has to say something. Or else I need you both out of my office.” 

To some surprise, it was Sirius that got to his feet. Remus glanced at him uncertainly, his face suddenly younger, softer. Sirius blew a strand of hair out of his face exasperatedly.

“We don’t need to be here anyway. I don’t trust this—this brain stuff.” 

“Well, Mr. Black, it’s not quite—”

“I don’t like people prodding around in my brain.” Sirius said firmly, no trace of the characteristic snarkiness in his tone. McGonagall fell silent, watching the boy quietly. He had his chin tilted up defiantly, almost arrogantly. Remus bit his lip.

“Pads, it’s really not like that. Professor McGonagall can..maybe..help.” 

“Oh! He speaks! What do you _mean,_ Moony! You’re the one who won’t speak to me! I’ve apologized. Merlin, I’ve apologized a _billion_ times. And you don’t have to forgive me, but—” 

“But yet you follow me around like a lost puppy, begging me to talk to you. You _do_ expect me to forgive you. You think you can get anything you want, don’t you? Entitled Pureblood.” 

“Oh, bugger off.”

The two boys stared each other down, their mouths tight. Neither seemed to be willing—or able—to look away. McGonagall wondered, not for the first time, if there was something more than friendship here. Sirius groaned.

“How long are you going to _punish_ me? Do you want me to grovel? What do you _want_ from me?” 

Remus sat up straighter and pointed a finger at Sirius. “See, there’s the problem. You think this is some little problem that can be fixed by some magic solution. I don’t have to forgive you ever, if I don’t want to. It’s my fucking choice.” 

Sirius exhaled hard, his eyes blazing. Then he spun around and stormed out of the door. Remus stared at the doorway for a second, and then sunk deeper into his chair, passing a hand over his face. McGonagall looked from the empty doorway to Remus helplessly. Remus looked up at her suddenly and smiled humorlessly, sarcastically. 

“So, should I forgive him?”

McGonagall had some idea of what the crime in question was. She folded her hands in front of her on the desk and thought for a few minutes. 

“Do you want to?” 

Remus snorted. “You saw that. Does it look like I want to?” 

“Well, not right now. Do you want to forgive him, some day?” 

Remus tugged the frayed ends of his sweater down. McGonagall rested her gaze on a fresh scar on his jaw. It looked quite painful. 

“Some day.” Remus mumbled. 

“Someday soon?” McGonagall asked gently, trying not to put any pressure on the child.

Remus bit his lip and nodded. “Someday soon.”

McGonagall straightened and appraised the boy in front of her.

“Well, Mr. Black will just have to wait until then.” She paused, thoughtful. “And I think he will, you know. He’s quite...intense about everything, isn’t he?” 

“Everything.” Remus laughed. “Love, forgiveness, anger, sadness, loyalty...all of it.” 

“Then he’d better learn to be intense with his patience too.”

Remus twisted his mouth as if he thought that was unlikely. McGonagall offered him a toffee and he shook his head, getting to his feet. 

“You know, this didn’t really solve my problems.” Remus said, with some sarcasm. 

“Ah, Mr. Lupin. You’re a bright boy. You’ve been solving your own problems for a long time. I’ll help where I can. But please, stop causing problems for your professors, or I'm going to have you and Mr. Black solve this problem in detention.” 

Remus nodded resolutely and offered her a shy smile before dashing out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what next hmm...
> 
> thank you so so much for reading!!! the kudos and comments make my heart GLOW!   
> if you got recommended this from somewhere, pls let me know!! that shit makes my DAY!!
> 
> lots of love!!


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